Atonement
by 11squeen
Summary: How Anne Boleyn deals with rebirth and meeting Henry Tudor again, 500 years later. Or, part two of Remembrance. Modern au, very heavy laden with Henry x Anne. Requested by a guest on the website so I thought why not?


Her initial reaction is to grasp at the chain around her neck. Fingers groping at the golden B initial that rests at her collarbone, Anne waits as the Beefeater makes a cruel joke about her head before he leads the group on and into the chapel, leaving her alone with him. He looks different this time, she thinks. His hair is not red dashed with streaks of gold any longer, but dark and cropped short, and his nose which used to be aquiline is now straight as an arrow. He has a rose tattooed onto his lower arm, she notices, just below where he has tugged up the sleeve of his jacket. But Anne recognises him all the same, for when he walks up to her she can see that his eyes are the same endless blue ones that she fell in love with. It has to be him, she knows it so. Why else would he be here now, standing in front of her?

"Hello," he says, almost a whisper, and she can remember it all like yesterday. The passion, the pain, the betrayal. She wants so much to weep right then and there, but she cannot, because it is Anne and Henry, Henry and Anne. It is destruction all over again. He looks down towards her chest, where her hand is grabbing the B as hard as she can even as it cuts into the palm of her hand. "B for…"

"Boleyn," they both say simultaneously. Henry smiles a sly smile, but this time it reaches his eyes, and Anne feels both shame and self-loathing tie up into a knot in her stomach.

Anne looks at him and she is filled with dread. Dread because this is the man who has caused her so much pain, dread because she fears that history might be rewriting itself. She does not know what to say, whether to cry or rage, to be filled with sorrow or anger or joy that they have passed the test of time. So he fills out the silence for her.

" _Anne_ ," Henry says.

"Henry," she says, though she is not sure whether his name is still the same. "Is _she_ here?" He looks at her, eyebrows furrowed, long, dark eyelashes fluttering as his eyelids flutter.

"Jane…" he says her name like a whisper, a sin that escapes his lips even when it should not. "She does not matter." He fills in, shaking his head furiously.

The enchantment breaks, and Anne is released from her trance as she stamps her foot hard into the ground and boldly steadies her arms against her hips. She's always been fiery, she's been told, whether it be good or bad. But even though the old her seems to be thousands of years away from her (or in this case, almost 500 years), Anne feels the need to protect her. To stand up for her, to fight for a woman who, in the end, had her voice taken away from her.

"It matters to me." Her voice is raised just slightly this time, but not loud enough as to arouse suspicion from the visitors and tourists around them.

"Why did you come here today?" he asks, ignoring her question. Anne licks her lips.

"I don't know. I felt like I had to."

"I just woke up today with this strange feeling in my gut, and I came here. Nothing made sense until I saw you. I believe that is how I felt when I first met you all those years ago."

She fiddles with her hands as a way to tell herself that what is happening around her is real. That the woman with the French hood and pearl necklace is long gone, and that she is the only remnant of what was. It feels so strange to be standing there, thinking with two brains at the same time, looking at a handsome young man with dark brown hair and seeing a red haired king. Anne does not know whether to curtsy or shake hands, whether she should send a text on her mobile afterwards or write a letter with a quill, whether she should light a fire in the fireplace when she comes home or turn on the heat. Her head starts to spin when she thinks of the two lives she has lived. There are many things that have remained the same, Anne thinks now that she knows of her past. She has a sister named Mary, a brother named George, and a strict father called Thomas. But there are also things, little bits and pieces that seem like giant plotholes now that she remembers them, that have not passed on. She recalls the moment when she'd been so sure that she'd had a boyfriend called Percy, when her family had gone on a road trip and they'd passed by a large stone mansion in Kent she'd never seen before in her life and felt longing. And that is the way Anne feels now as she looks upon this stranger that she knows so well.

She longs nothing more than to be in the arms of her beloved husband again, her husband who has searched for her through time and time again, but she recoils, remembering her vows to herself.

"Why did you do it?" The question is impossible to avoid, it has been hanging suspenseful in the air for 500 years. Henry looks at her with sorrow and pity and with gentle eyes filled with fire that calls for her. He takes a step towards her, they're so close now that Anne can see his chest rise and lower as he inhales and exhales deeply.

"I-" his words stumble. "I can't remember," he says and Anne is disappointed, she feels as if everything that has led up to now was for nothing. But then his words cascade down into the air like a waterfall and Anne can't help but to listen. "I only know I made the biggest mistake I'll ever make. I only know that I didn't deserve you. That is all I can remember, the way it felt when I lived on in the shadow of my mistake. When I grew old and cruel, and you remained eternal and brave. I can only recall what it felt like when I turned my self-loathing into hatred of you. That is all."

Anne looks at him and is filled with misery and hope, all at the same time. Misery that they didn't make it, hope that they may get a second chance.

"Look, Anne…" he stumbles again on the words left unsaid. "I don't know why I'm here. I only know that I somehow had the luck to ever meet you again."

Anne smiles at him as her eyes sting with tears. She still feels resentment for this man on some level, she is still unsure whether she can trust him. Yet he is the only thing in her life that is stable now that her whole world has been turned upside down, the only thing she knows for sure is real and true. But she believes with all her heart that at least this time they will get the time that lost before, and that she can learn of what is right and wrong in that space. And for her that assurance is enough, at least this one time. And she kisses him.

Author's Note:

A follow-up to my one-shot _Remembrance_ was requested by a guest on here. At first I was reluctant since I really liked the opening ending of the first part of this "mini-series" (I guess you could call it that), but then I just thought "why the hell not?" and here we are. I don't actually think I might write a third part. But I am definitely going to write some more Tudors fanfiction on here for those of you who'd like to know. Hope you like this one as well! :3


End file.
